Our fathers how we miss'em so
by SomecallmeMichelle
Summary: Terry and Bruce go to pay their homage to their deceased parents...Max tags along, problem is that brings up the memory of when her father abandons her, which results in Terry having to cheer her up. (Hints of merry/tax, but not the focus)
"No!"

Almost as if denying what was happening would stop the event from happening, the young afro american girl held tightly to her dad's arm, pushing it down preventing it from moving. The man could have gotten free from it easily, he could have simply used his other hand to push the crying, sobbing, little girl, to the side and moved, but he didn't. Yet, he couldn't put himself in the place of pushing himself downwards and looking at her, in the eyes and explaining the situation. It would only made the situation harder, and how do you explain something like this to a 4 year old?

Maxine Gibson, or, as the 4 year old year prefered to be called, "Max", could feel her hands getting sweaty as she felt the man, her dad, tense up. But she wouldn't let go, she wouldn't! It wasn't like she could or would. She needed her father. What kind of little girl didn't grow without a father.

Her one older sister watched from a distance, but while she usually would use her as as a tool to provoke, prodding, and pointing, and picking on. and hitting with her little bony fingers and such, this time, this one little girl, too, was not smiling. She didn't have that little affected smirk that Max knew meant trouble for her, no, she didn't hadn't had that smile that max knew meant pain or a scolding from one of their stressed parents, for a few weeks.

She just looked, at the display, and though Max couldn't look , too intensely focused on the effort of getting her father stuck in place, not to leave. Not to abandon her, because she wanted….needed her father. - It was like that. A desperate feeling, a need for attention.

Now that her father had yelled at her lately...her father had been excessively nice, in fact, he had given her almost everything she had demanded. Lollies, ice creams, even in the cold winter of Gotham, the city that seemed to be always in a gloomy and winter bitter weather. Despite its location. And even some toys. - In the coming weeks all those toys would be smashed, Max wanting nothing to do with the things her father had done to try and please her, like lube being inserted to smooth before a peg being inserted into a hole into one of the factory jobs her father could never keep.

But for now all that Max wanted was that her father remained there in place, so, even though the sweat, even though it was slippery, and she couldn't hold on any harder, she tried. It was impossible though, Her father had had enough of that. With a simple motion, a simple push of the hand, gentle enough not to hurt the small girl, not like he needed to apply much strength to lift her, he got released.

He looked back, once, a look that Max would remember for years and years to come, and would haunt her nightmares.

:

That memory was all that came to Max as she stood in front of the cemetery with Terry and the old man. She had a feeling that the old man didn't like cemeteries much, but, much like everyone, she too had lost someone, and she knew it to be silly to cry for someone who - as far as she could see on the future's social media's, hacking into his profiles. - was still very much alive, and hadn't just bothered to reply to her, or her sister, friend requests. But still, she too felt, grief, as for the person she had lost.

It had been over 10 years since she had lost the person she had wanted to avoid, and she couldn't help but bring out little tears to her eyes. She still held this vague hope, this stupid little hope, that he would one day return. It was stupid. She didn't even know if he was the man she remembered admiring, heck, from not caring enough to like her two spawn, things he had created from his seed, and himself, to ask, once, twice, how they were, he was probably not all that great of a person...but still she wished.

She guessed it was a wish every daughter of divorced parents had, but, he couldn't do anything about it, it was just like that, he had made his decision.

The old man, Bruce Wayne, gently lowered himself to place roses on the graves of Thomas and Martha wayne, his father's….they too had been taken away from him at a very young age, by murder, and had motivated him to do great things….great things. Improve the city that took his father and mother away...Terry, his (not so) secret crush, with whom he had come, also had had his father assassinated, and he was here to visit the cemetery and...he was doing his best to improve the city too, now that the little child Bruce Wayne had grown into old man Bruce wayne.

She let out a deep pained gulp, every one of them had lost someone and still...she put a hand to Terry's shoulder, he was someone so...so...well. He always did his best to improve himself, even he was a former juvenile delinquent, and she really appreciated that.

She saw him turn around, there were tears in the corners of his eyes, as was expected, he had been visiting his father grave, but still, he promptly got around to getting his head out of the matter and focus on the situation. - "Geez Max you look terrible, even worse than me and" - He lowered his voice, because he knew that Mr Wayne didn't like him calling him on a first name base. - "Bruce...something wrong?"

It was selfish of her, and usually she had a mask she kept on, a mask of rationality, a mask of gumption, a mask, and her usual badass self to contain any doubts or any feelings of self worth doubt, but not today….not when they were all so emotionally fragile.

"It's just...seeing everyone you lost…even if it's just one person…" - Terry gulped, but managed to compose himself quickly enough. He hated to be reminded of what he had lost, but he had to be there for his best friend, like she, Max, was there for him. - "It reminded me of my father….do you know my first memory was actually him leaving? Me holding him not to leave, and him just taking me and going away? Looking once and never saying anything else?" - Bruce had started to look back, as Max's hysteria was making him look. He might not have his senses as sharp as they once were, but even he had heard part of the conversation.

He however had never been the best at dealing with female hysteria if he had to be honest, oh he could deal with it, truthfully, but it usually involved drinking and making them laugh about their issues, as the image of the jolly playboy. And Max wasn't old enough to drink yet. So...she had no idea how to deal with. He was smart and could try to relate it to his experience growing up without a father, but then he had always had someone who cared for him, so...it wasn't quite the same thing.

"Listen...Max, ignore your father" - It was Terry who spoke, her best friend, and probably the only person she would really listen to anyway. - "Ya know? If he's missing out, he's missing out, I used to think my folk was being tough on me by...by…" - he paused, momentarily, as pained thoughts came to him. - "As, anyway, but you know...in the end I realised it was on me...I was so hard on him, to raise...you weren't, you are tough, a really hard girl, but you are only that way now! After your parents almost made you raise yourself!"

Max looked up at Terry's reassuring smile, and pained expression. - "I'm sure he lives a miserable life somewhere, Star City, Metropolis, or a craphole somewhere, I don't know...look the point is...you are here...you are amazing, and I…"

He hesitated, was this really the time? She needed the reassurance.

"I think that you grew up to be the best you could be, not having a dad, who to me looks like a real ass, not even bothering to call, or text, or chat, once in 10 years...well you're better off without him"

Max looked at Terry, she approached him, putting his two arms on her shoulders, so he was pressing against her frame.

She could feel him, now that she had pushed him against herself, and it felt...nice, though suprised, Terry was quick to take in the push and pushed himself closer gently patting her back. A smile on his face.

"It's going to be alright...and hey...it's not like with my dad...where I…"

Bruce quickly intervened.

"McGinnis...with your father, it was a planned hit, what they did, if you were there that night, you would have died, pure and simple, disobeying, as guilt tripping as it may be for you, might have just saved your life, I'm sure in his final moments, he was very glad you disobeyed him"

Terry felt a sense of relief, a weight he had been feeling for quite some time now was finally lifting off his chest.

"Thank you Mr Wayne."

"Now let's move, Gibson, McGinnis. I don't like this place"

They all solemnly moved away, Max's moment of weakness having passed and gone away, and now being replaced by a fierce face of determination…

 **Author's Note: So yeah...I have personal motives for writing this oneshot, but, hum I hope you have enjoyed it, and if so, please leave a review? Thank you.**


End file.
